


The Leap Home

by Marzipan77



Series: The Ascended Chronicles of an Interfering Archaeologist [6]
Category: Quantum Leap, Stargate SG-1
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ascended Daniel Jackson, Episode: s05e22 Mirror Image, Episode: s06e22 Full Circle, Gen, Putting Things Right That Once Went Wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22307689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzipan77/pseuds/Marzipan77
Summary: Back in his own reality, Daniel is on Abydos, looking for the Eye of Ra when Skaara suddenly isn't himself any more. With one "oh, boy" Dr. Sam Beckett leaps into Skaara and he and the Ascended Daniel Jackson find out just how much they have in common. And how much they each want to go home.It's time to finally put right what once went wrong - in more than one life.
Relationships: Al Calavicci/Beth Calavicci, Daniel Jackson/Sha're
Series: The Ascended Chronicles of an Interfering Archaeologist [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1236320
Comments: 18
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and enjoying The Ascended Chronicles of an Interfering Archaeologist. Daniel's journey isn't over, but this series is. I'm finally getting to put Sam Beckett and his best friend back together as they should have been. 
> 
> Timeline: According to QL, Sam began leaping in 1995. Stargate SG-1 premiered in 1997. The movie, 1994. I can imagine Dr. Beckett being asked to help with the program, but being too busy with his project. And Al has his fingers in many pies. So, please just let me have my weird timeline.

Chapter 1

A table made of thick wooden planks, roughly cut and polished to a warm glow. Around it, chairs, as diverse as those who would claim them. Some were padded, in leather or ornate upholstery. Some stark, woven out of branch or horn. Set amid the heavens, pulsars and quasars blinking in the deep black, no light was necessary, but those who gathered here drew up tall, wrought-iron lampstands all along each side of the table's length, the semblance of living flame casting a comforting sense of reality across the scene. 

The precise number of those seated there didn't matter – names and faces were unimportant. Those Ascended who had taken up this particular charge, this burden, appeared in whatever guise their capricious natures selected. Some clung to earthly flesh, aged, worn, as if to pretend to greater wisdom or experience. Others chose to appear as children. Or, as homages to historical figures from their own pasts. Some remained energy, long tails of brightness whipping around the impossible space.

Oma Desala let a smile play along her pale pink lips. She enjoyed the ordinariness of this human woman's image. She had chosen, in times past, to resemble a lioness, a dazzling beam of light, a goddess of ethereal beauty. Thankfully, she'd outgrown the need to inspire awe or worship or devotion. She preferred, in these times, to be listened to.

The forms – the figures and table and lampstands – they were a conceit, a reminder to the Ascended that the lives of those who used spaces like these would be affected by their decisions here. Men, women, and children of flesh and bone who toiled daily, who chose left or right – right or wrong – without benefit of ages-long memories or the ability to see into other realities would bear the burdens of their decisions. She nodded to herself. Living among the stardust of many realities, the Ancients easily forgot. Forgot how it felt to touch another's hand. To sit with an old one as she slipped away. To be allowed the deepest intimacies with a lover. And the profound ache of knowing oneself to be powerless. Powerless to heal. To draw one back from death. To truly reach another's heart. These few images of physical life were necessary – no, imperative reminders. Daniel had taught them all that much.

Daniel was one of those – one of those lowers who did the best they could, the very best thing they could. Always. Almost always, she corrected herself. Daniel Jackson was no storybook saint, pale and perfect, his gaze raised heavenward. He had a temper. A mind that could be stuck in one track. A need to speak longer and louder than he should. And a stubborn insistence on helping others.

"And he's far too smart for his own good. Don't forget that."

She turned to greet the Other who slumped on the stool that had appeared at her side. "Albrecht." She took in the heavy bags under his eyes, the exhaustion written in deep creases across his forehead and the slump of his shoulders. She laid one hand on his forearm, beneath the rolled-up sleeve of his plain white shirt. Albrecht's charge had many of the same traits as her Daniel. The two could have been brothers. 

She shouldn't be surprised – most of those offered Ascension from the human plane bore the same characteristics. The same urgent love. The same well of caring. The same courage. These things drew the attention of the Ascended ones, of this committee in particular. 

"How long, now?" she asked gently.

"For him?" Albrecht sighed. "Five years."

Oma's eyebrows lifted. Few lowers who were chosen for Ascension stayed in this state of flux for that long. It had not yet been an Earth year for Daniel, but she knew it was time. Time for decision. For Daniel to truly Ascend, his energy shunted to that higher plane permanently, or it was time to send him back to his body. She turned more fully to face Albrecht.

"So long." Five years. The poor man – Albrecht had kept him between life and Ascension, moving between realities, working to put things right. At this point, the man would have no hope for the future. Of either rest or a welcome home. His life on the physical plane would not wait for him – his loves, friends, work – they all would have gone on without him. Sheer torture, that's what Albrecht's waiting must feel like. How could the Others have left his charge to this endless striving for place for so long? 

"Are you still –"

"Undecided?" Albrecht interrupted, shaking his head. "I am. He does amazing work. Has helped so many innocents. He's even helped turn some from deadly, dark paths. Paths too familiar to those of us who remember."

"Ah." Oma understood. It was a temptation she'd felt herself. Like Albrecht, Oma had watched her charge, her Daniel – how his words, his bright intentions – could change the hearts of men and women. How he'd comforted children, opening up better, gentler possibilities in their futures. But to keep Daniel working, moving from reality to reality in an endless quest to fix people, to right all the wrongs, fill all the holes, and save those he loved over and over again without a chance to be loved in return? She couldn't do it. She wouldn't do it.

She sent a ripple of power towards Albrecht, forcing his head up, turning his defeated gaze to lock with hers. "He is your charge, Albrecht, not your servant." Her voice was grim. "Not our servant."

"No, no," he agreed readily. He lifted his hands. "And yet the good he does … it resonates."

Oma closed her eyes. "These people, the ones we choose, everything they do resonates." She touched her chest, exploring the warmth in her heart that spoke of Daniel. "We found them because of their energy, their hearts." She opened her eyes. "It's what makes Ascension possible for them. It's not a weapon we should use against them."

"I don't know any more. I don't know if Ascension for Sam is possible," Albrecht finally admitted. "He's – he's emptying. I can feel it. The passion, the pride in his accomplishments, the love for his fellow humans – everything that made him a prime candidate for Ascension is dwindling, fading."

"That is not his fault," Kendra snapped. She tucked in her long red skirt and slid into the chair opposite Albrecht. "You've kept him on the cusp too long. Denied him true Ascension while you plucked him here and there along his timeline. The poor boy is exhausted and hopeless." Her dark gaze caught at Albrecht's, warmer than Oma expected at her words. "I understand indecision, believe me. It can be crippling. But you shouldn't let your failings cripple your charge." She reached across the table and gripped Albrecht's thick fingers. "Decide. Decide today. Don't put him – or yourself – through this again."

When Kendra's sharp gaze flicked to Oma, she felt it like a sting. "Let this be a lesson to all of us. To you, Oma. Don't let your charge linger in this in-between. In this place where he does not truly belong – neither Ascended nor Lower, neither Ettin nor Midgardian. It is kinder to release them back into the harshness of the physical, where pain and grief and loss and striving are everywhere, than to keep them waiting. To keep them working, trying to earn something that should be freely given."

Murmurs of agreement and disagreement drifted up and down the table. 

"We shall not, yet again, get caught up in the discussion of worthiness." Myrddin's raspy voice held more than a hint of disgust. "It is utterly fruitless." He waved a hand. "We have allowed Oma, Albrecht, and others to bring their charges up to the near Ascended plateau. A plateau we created out of our own fear and failure. Because we," he emphasized the word as he stared straight through to Oma's guilty soul, "once chose in error. Now we turn these souls out of their earthly fates to toil away until our fears are staunched."

Kendra slapped her hand on the table, the sound reverberating into the universe. "It must stop. Perhaps because my own memories of that time, lingering along the edges of the physical while my spirit was tested are so close." Her narrowed eyes scorched the spirits gathered around the table. "It is you who are unworthy, you who demand this, this servitude. You who take on the mantle of god to judge others." She crossed her arms and turned her face away. "I have had enough of false gods in my former life."

Her accusation stunned the powerful ones. Ganos gripped Myrddin's hand until her knuckles were white. The old man's eyes were closed as he struggled. After a day – a century – an eon – of silence, Myrddin drew in a deep breath.

"It is not only our fear that directs this horrific action. It is both fear and longing. Longing for the brightest of souls to join us, to show us a new way. Or, rather," he chuckled, "an old way that we had forgotten. I tell you now, Albrecht, it is not your charge who is empty, who has grown weary of the good he is doing. It is we who are empty cisterns, draining him – draining Daniel," he nodded at Oma, "to fill ourselves up." Myrddin raised one hand and released its physical form to allow his energy to stretch out, to fill the space they'd created with light. "Know this. This very day, these two brightest of souls will choose. Choose to join us or choose to return. If we are to release our fears, our burdens, then it can only be their decision."

Murmurs of consensus and doubt lingered just beneath the surface. Oma felt Albrecht stir beside her. "One final test, then." Albrecht straightened his shoulders. 

"No." Oma rose, her awareness sweeping through the beings gathered here. She accepted their apologies and warnings, her heart filled with more hope for their future than she'd had in millennia. More discussion wasn't necessary; Myrddin had already spoken for them all. Kendra's spirit lingered, offering suggestions. Ganos hung back in the shadows, memories of other 'false gods' turning her usual stern confidence into jaw-clenching silence. The table, lampstands, and chairs disappeared, and Oma returned to energy, holding Albrecht's spirit beside her while the Others drifted away, ready to be called by either one to assist.

Mingling her awareness with his, Oma soothed Albrecht's regret, his fear of failure, reminding him – reminding them both of the unique men who were their charges. She faced his hesitation with strength of will and a new certainty, tainted with the sudden knowledge of which way Daniel would surely choose.

"The time for tests is over. Together, we will give them much more than a test. We will give them, instead, the desire of their hearts. And the power to make one last change."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The desert wind stung, heat lifting from the dunes and beating down from the blue dome of the sky. His eyes burned, his skin pricking through the thick robes. He'd never forget the sensations, the way his body reacted to the desert. The familiar dryness of his lips. The sweat that ran down between his shoulder blades. The scent of spice and heat and home. 

Daniel closed his eyes, letting the memories rise up. Sha're. Kasuf. An unexpected mastadge ride. The living Ancient Egyptian language and culture. Jack and the soldiers, taunting him, laughing, and then grim with anger at his inability to find the symbols to send them home. Ra. Jaffa. Daniel's first death at the end of a staff weapon and his first rebirth in the sarcophagus. The sharp, strong connection that snapped into place between Daniel, a naïve academic, and a grieving, self-destructive Air Force colonel. 

His heart thumped, out of rhythm. A year later he'd lost it all. Sha're. Skaara. Wife and brother. He remembered the gate-room beneath the temple. The way his Abydos family surrounded him, reaching out to touch him as he explained that he had to go. That nothing good could come through the Stargate.

_"You came, Danyel."_

The words drifted through the universe, called back to Daniel as he struggled with his losses, his gains, the choices that he chewed on again and again as he faced Ascension, existence. Again and again they called him back to this place, to the mountain, to walk beside his friends, his family. To try to make up for his failures. To stem the bleeding of their losses with his new powers. 

When faced with his death, Daniel had believed his earthly life had been a failure. What if, in this new one, he still couldn't make a difference? Not where it mattered most?

The words of the Abydonians echoed, brushing against his stubbornness. Other words joined them. 

_"If you are to die, Daniel Jackson, I wish you to know that I believe that the fight against the Goa'uld will have lost one of its greatest warriors. And I will have lost one of my greatest friends."_

_"I'd love to come to see you in your school play tomorrow night, sweetheart, but can't. Well, a very close friend of mine is lost and he needs my help. Yes, he's a very close friend. I hope so too."_

_"Daniel Jackson…made this place…happen. As a member of SG-1…he was our voice; our conscience. He was a very courageous man. He was a good man. For those of us lucky enough to have known him, he was also a friend."_

After his Ascension, Daniel had learned that, once spoken, words could never be silenced. They never died, never faded. Words existed eternally among the stars, beneath the soils, hung in treetops and laid like snow across the landscape. Traveling as Daniel and the other Ascended did, they often stirred up the words of ancient men and women, cries of children, commands and apologies. Insults hurled in anger and loss. Warm murmurs of love whispered in the dark. Promises of friendship. Hellos and goodbyes.

Other words caught on the edge of Daniel's being. Words that had followed him from his physical life. Hard, harsh, biting. Cutting remarks from those who could hurt him the worst. Foolish insults that rushed from his own lips as if he could match the lashes on his own soul with the hurt in his friends' eyes. As if he could balance the pain. 

He shook his head, angry at himself. He should be beyond this. This regret. But the more he interacted with other humans, the more he remembered his own life. Each time he reached out to steady a struggling soul or fix a mistake, he relived his own struggles, his own mistakes. How many interfering Ascended beings would it have taken to smooth Daniel's own road? To save his parents? To save Sha're or Sarah? To heal his friendships? Or were his own worries and losses too small, too meaningless to draw the attention of beings concerned with life and death, war and peace, and the grand march of history?

Why couldn't he walk those roads, the roads of his own lifetime. Why couldn't he swing a coverstone out of the way? Convince a heedless grandfather of Daniel's need? Steal the bullets from Jack's gun before Charlie touched it? Take Sha're and Skaara with him to the cartouche room? Why was he forbidden from making a difference in the very lives that meant the most to him?

One more time, he'd promised himself. He'd try once more. Anubis was coming. More powerful than any other Goa'uld they'd fought, Anubis had targeted Abydos and Ra's temple here. His weapon – if he found all the Eyes and finished it – could bring new devastation to a galaxy that was trying to recover from the Goa'uld tyranny. The Abydonians were looking for it – Skaara and the others. And Daniel was skirting both edges between blatant interference and absolute uselessness, trying to keep the Others distant enough that they didn't notice his strategic meddling. 

Daniel felt the Ascended ones. Closer, now. He lowered his head and sought the edges of this construct, this body built of stardust and memories. He thinned his being, stepping back from the physical reality of Abydos while focusing his awareness on the people working at the base of the dune. Yanuf. Nabeh. Porro. Young men who had been trained a decade ago by Jack and Ferretti and Kowalsky to defend their world from monsters. Tents huddled against the lee side of the dune, a long awning covering cook fires on one side. They'd gathered here, at the base of the Temple of Ra, because of Daniel. Because of his warnings. These boys – young men, now – were at risk again. Time had come full circle, with Anubis taking the place of Ra to threaten Abydos with destruction.

The Others had given Daniel free rein to influence other realities, other planes of existence. They'd even helped him. But, not here. Not these people. They refused to allow him to help the people he cared about. His friends. His family. Fists clenched at his sides, Daniel's anger rose up. They'd stopped him from tearing Jack away from Baal. From healing Teal'c and Bra'tac. His influence had to be hidden, secret, known only to Oma and a few other Ascended ones. A few words for Jack. A hint laid into Teal'c's mind. A protective story keeping Teal'c sane. 

Words. They'd let Daniel have his words and nothing else. Ironic.

He lifted his gaze. What words could possibly save Abydos – save Daniel's universe – from Anubis?

"Oh, boy."

Frowning, Daniel glared at the figure next to him on the sand. "Skaara?" He quickly took on physicality and grabbed Skaara's arm to keep him from tumbling down the face of the dune in shock. 

"'Skaara?'" Skaara repeated, squinting in the harsh light. He looked down at himself, smoothing his hands across his robes, the ammunition belt across his chest and weapon's strap on his shoulder, even lifting one of his long locks of hair and examining it closely. "Well, this is different," he murmured.

Daniel tightened his grip. With a rush of wind, he swept a tempest of sand around the two of them, shielding them from any eyes that might be lifted to the top of the dune and trapping this being inhabiting Skaara's body. He moved them within the temple with a thought, to a lower chamber where none of the Abydonian warriors would interfere.

"Whoa." 'Skaara' gripped the sleeve of Daniel's robe and raised wide, startled eyes to his. "What – what just happened?" He twisted his neck, scanning the chamber, peering up the dark stairs and into the shadowy corners. "Where the heck are we?"

Daniel sent a wave of energy through the body next to him. "You're not a Goa'uld." Relief washed through Daniel. Not again. Anubis hadn't managed to infiltrate the Abydonians, to take his brother-in-law captive by some lower-level snake. This … possession … was different. "Who – what are you? Ascended? Ancient? What have you done with Skaara?"

"Okay. Let's just calm down." Raising both hands, 'Skaara' tried a smile. "I – uh, I think I must have hit my head back there. I fell. The dizziness," he circled one finger around his temple, "it's confusing. Just, give me a minute." He yanked his arm from Daniel's hold and staggered backward into a pocket of shadow. "Al, help," he murmured.

_"Really. Hit your head. That's what you're going with. I don't think hitting your head on some nonexistent rock would make you forget your native language._ " Crossing his arms, Daniel narrowed his eyes at the imposter. He continued in Abydonian. _"You do know I can hear you, right? Who is Al? Do you have a transmitter? A ship waiting? Are you NID? With Maybourne's people?"_ He shifted back to English. "And, for the last time, where is Skaara?"

"Um." 'Skaara' was clearly playing for time. "I'm Skaara. And," he tilted his head, "you're trying to confuse me. Maybe you're the imposter, huh?"

A whooshing sound and bright lights in his peripheral vision startled Daniel. He moved, blinking out of physical existence and reappearing two meters to the left so he could keep both the imposter and this new threat within sight. 

A doorway appeared. A doorway standing upright on the floor of the temple, with nothing to anchor it to this plane of existence. A man stepped across, from one reality to the other, as easily as if he were walking into his own living room. Behind him, the doorway closed.

He was wearing a uniform. A US Navy uniform. Service dress whites, Daniel's brain filled in for him. Daniel swallowed hard. Navy. Navy using advanced tech. He'd half-raised his power to trap this man as he had the Skaara imposter, but –

The Navy … admiral, Daniel realized, stared straight at him. And saluted.

"Doctor Daniel Jackson. It's an honor and a privilege to meet you."

"Al, what are you doing? He can't see you." 'Skaara' gestured, waving one hand between the newcomer and Daniel. When Daniel raised his eyebrows, he snapped to attention. "Wait, you can see him? How? What the heck!" Hands lifting and falling in exasperation, the imposter looked to the heavens. "Another Leaper?" he shouted. "You've set me against another Leaper?"

Turning his back on the ranting imposter, Daniel nodded at the Navy man. "Admiral …" 

Finishing the salute, the man introduced himself. "Admiral Al Calavicci. And this man is Doctor Sam Beckett."

"You clearly know me. So, I'm going to assume that you have been read into the program I used to work on." Daniel had no idea how the president or the Joint Chiefs decided who did and didn't need to know about the Stargate. And this man had access to technology unlike any Daniel had seen before. That doorway didn't resemble either Asgard beams or a Goa'uld ring device. "Are you in orbit? If so, what does the Navy want with Abydos?"

The admiral's eyes were dark and solemn. "Doctor Jackson. How could I not remember the name of the man who opened the Stargate? Who succeeded when everyone else had failed? I – forgive me," he put one hand on his chest, "but, I'd heard that you had been Killed in Action. Not the first time," his eyes twinkled, and a grin drifted around his lips, "nor the second, but – I'm very, very glad to see that this time was a mistake as well."

Daniel grunted. "Not a mistake."

"Okay, hold on. What are you two talking about?" Dr. Beckett – 'Skaara' – stepped between them. "Wait. I've heard that term before. 'Stargate.' Isn't that something the other Sam was working on? Sam Carter?"

"You know Sam?" Now Daniel was the dizzy one. "Major Samantha Carter?"

"'Major?' That's new. But, sure. Believe it or not," the grin on 'Skaara's' face looked far too giddy, "the astrophysicist community is not that big. Not at our level." He pointed towards the admiral. "Didn't they ask us to consult?"

"Oh, this you remember." Calavicci rolled his eyes. "My birthday you haven't remembered once in five years, but the Stargate and Samantha Carter you remember. Although," the admiral tilted his head, eyes at half-mast, "how anyone could forget that gorgeous egghead is beyond me."

Daniel was losing it. Losing the thread of this conversation and possibly losing his mind. He centered his energy over his heart and whispered into the universe. 

"Oma."

"It's all right, Daniel," he heard in reply. "Skaara is safe." For a moment, he felt her hand on his cheek as she'd touched him once on Kheb. "You need their help. And they need yours. No one will stand in your way – not this time. Do what you need to do. And help Sam do the same. Only then can you truly release your burdens or decide to take them up again."

Daniel turned to the man wearing Skaara's body. "Doctor Beckett. I'm Daniel. Daniel Jackson."

"Sam." He held out his hand expectantly. At Daniel's raised eyebrows, he looked doubtful.

Daniel wiggled his fingers. "Non-corporeal in this reality."

"'In this reality'?" Skaara's face took on a delighted expression. "Well," he grinned, "this is refreshing. Tell me, what do you need?" The humor dropped away, leaving an exhausted kind of determination in its wake. "How can I help?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It was a long story. Two long stories. Convoluted and impossible, two different worlds of unexpected – and unbelievable – situations that somehow fit together. Daniel and Ascension. Sam and Leaping. Higher Powers. Fate. Faith. Moral imperatives and the philosophies of right and wrong. Free will and inevitability. The necessity of interference and the problems of playing God. 

Daniel found himself both appalled and jealous of Sam Beckett's life. Five years. Five years of leaping, alienated from his friends and family, from his own life while he helped others. He couldn't visit, like Daniel had. Couldn't look in on his wife, tell her he loved her, or plant suggestions and reassurances during her struggles. But Sam had been encouraged to interfere, commanded to change things. He'd been able to help his family. His brother. His father. His best friend. And that's where the jealousy came in. Daniel couldn't change his parents' deaths or Jack's son's accident, was refused the chance to hold Sha're close and keep her from Apophis' slavery. And Sam had Al, a friend and mentor on this journey. He smiled to himself. Admiral Al Calavicci, Sam's "Oma". From what Daniel had witnessed so far, Al was a lot more like Jack O'Neill than he was an ethereal being projecting calm wisdom. If Daniel had Jack along for this ride …well, he could have gotten into a lot more trouble.

After he was convinced that Skaara was safe and would return to his body unharmed, Daniel had moved the two outside. Walking across the dunes as the late evening sun turned the sand the color of melting caramel eased the dread in Daniel's heart. The sweet nostalgia of Abydos, the warmth, the spices in the air, the utter stillness of a world with no air travel, no radio waves, no trains or construction equipment in the distance gave Daniel the illusion that they were alone – two men charged with purpose, struggling for answers. Oma and the Others had lifted their sullen presence – backing off to give Daniel room to explore this unexpected situation. Filling non-corporeal lungs, Daniel felt a sense of freedom, as if unleashed. He didn't know why the Ascended beings had given him this opportunity, but he was not going to waste a moment.

Beckett, on the other hand, seemed tense. Focused. He listened, head down, asking a few questions to lead Daniel to information he'd left out of his story. How Daniel had 'died.' Why he'd chosen Ascension. The hardest questions, ones that Daniel avoided. 

After a lengthy silence, Daniel glanced over at Skaara's familiar face, deep creases folding his forehead into a frown. "I expected you to be more interested in the science of Stargate travel, Sam. Granted," Daniel waved a hand, "my experience with astrophysicists is limited to Sam and McKay, but you're much more thoughtful. Well, anyone is more thoughtful than McKay." He shook his head. "The 'whys' never seemed to be as important as the 'hows' to my hard science friends."

"Maybe I was like that once," Sam answered, "but, after five years of 'why' I've realized that is the most important question. And that the heart of a man – or woman – is where the real battle against evil takes place."

Daniel was swept back to Skaara's Triad on Tollana. To the way the Tollan device had shunted Klorel's control aside and separated the psyches inhabiting his brother-in law. Skaara hadn't been perfect, not a flawless man, with no sins or failures, but the contrast between the two personalities had been the most blatant visual image of the divide between good and evil that Daniel had ever seen. A reminder that they all carried both within their hearts – even without a Goa'uld symbiote to blame their failings on.

"I think, if you're honest with yourself, there was more to your choice of Ascension than that your body was failing. That you didn't know if your friend's attempt at healing would return you to good physical health." Sam stopped and waited until Daniel turned to face him. "Am I wrong?"

"No. Not entirely." Daniel felt the weight of memory, the smoldering cloud of depression that had been his ever-present companion during the last several months of his life. "Yes, I was worried that Jacob would fail. That I'd hang onto a short life of bed-ridden pain. But, more than that, a life that had been wasted. Where I'd failed, again and again, to do what I set out to do. To make a difference."

Sam began nodding halfway through Daniel's explanation. His eyes were bleak, not the deep well of compassion and joy that Daniel usually found in Skaara's. He understood. Sam Beckett understood too well. 

"It's what you're feeling now, isn't it, Sam? That tightrope existence, afraid to put one foot wrong. The certainty that, even if you chalk up a win today, tomorrow, there will be another battle. Another wrong to right. Another problem to solve. Alone."

"I guess so." Sam shrugged Skaara's shoulders. He lifted his gaze to the farthest dunes. "I miss –" He stopped himself, his smile wistful. "I miss a lot of things. Having coffee in my pajamas. Driving, with no particular place to go. Sitting around the piano, singing songs. A lazy Sunday with my wife. I miss my work, the science." His eyes widened. "How many new discoveries have I missed? New theories? After five years, I'm woefully behind."

"You've done a lot of good," Daniel reminded him.

"So have you." Sam met Daniel's gaze. "But –" he began.

"But," Daniel sighed, discarding every mask, every pretense of a higher calling. "But I'd love to go home. To shake Hammond's hand, put on that uniform, and have a beer with Jack. To screw up, and get it wrong at least half the time, to do regrets and make amends and have the hard discussions where neither side is really listening." The tears in Daniel's eyes didn't fall – but it was a close thing. "Warts and all, I'd take another few years with my friends than eternity as an Ascended."

"Yeah," Sam breathed. One chuckle escaped. "I have Al, at least."

As if the sound of his name pulled him, the bright doorway into Sam's life appeared and the admiral strode out onto the sand.

"Okay. First off, Skaara's good. That kid," both hands on his hips, the admiral grinned, "that kid is a riot. Wants to play with every switch and read-out in the Waiting Room like an overactive two-year-old and then spouts off something so deep I need a miner's helmet and a jackhammer to figure it out. I like him." Al punched at the hand-held computer in his hand. "Oh, by the way, he told me I'd better take care of his brother Daniel because he is most wise and dearly loved, and because someone named Ohnyel will kill us if we don't."

Daniel laughed. "O'Neill. Jack O'Neill."

Al took a step back and then smacked himself in the forehead. "Colonel Jack O'Neill. Of course! How could I have missed that? I know Jack's been hiding under that mountain, running the show since his weird double retirement shenanigans. It would be obvious from Hammond's teeth-grinding to all the sarcasm spewing out all over the Joint Chiefs every time Kinsey or Samuels sticks his nose in even if I wasn't read in."

"Well, to be honest," Daniel scrunched up his eyebrows, "quite of few of General Hammond's dental bills might have been my fault."

The admiral let his gaze flick between Sam and Daniel. "Huh. Two peas in a pod, then."

"Al, we need to find this Eye of Ra. Can Ziggy help? Can we scan the lower chamber of the pyramid?" 

Daniel had infected Sam with his unease, with the certain knowledge that Anubis was close – very close. Sam was more than earnest, more than determined. From his tense shoulders to the strain obvious in Skaara's voice, he echoed Daniel's own desperation. Maybe Daniel should feel guilty about involving him, about accepting help from this unexpected source. He closed his eyes at an unexpected rush of warmth and reassurance from Oma. Okay. He'd concentrate on being grateful, instead. And on doing his best to help Dr. Beckett in return.

"Oh, Ziggy and I had a better idea." Al's grin widened, his eyes twinkling merrily. "You see, there's this astrophysicist with some cool gadgets who wants in on the action. Gooshie!" he shouted over his shoulder, "center me on the Stargate."

"The – what –" a rush of dread swept through Daniel. No. He couldn't mean … As Al disappeared, Daniel took hold of Sam's energy and moved them to the chamber where the Stargate was hidden.

The kawoosh had already subsided when Daniel stepped back into reality. And there they were. BDUs, weapons, boots, familiar faces that ripped Daniel's control to shreds and sent him up the steps towards his team.

"A little Navy birdie told me somebody needed some help."

"Jack." 

Dark eyes took Daniel in, assessing, checking for damage, for Daniel's well-being. It was familiar. Welcome. As was the immediate snark. "The Navy, Daniel? Really?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Shooting up the place?? That's your best idea, O'Neill? Sheesh, no wonder Daniel over there gets a little maudlin. Probably wishes that Stargate had been dragged out of, I don't know, the Arctic Ocean and he'd linked up with the Navy, where brains are actually required in the officer class. How about you let the oh-so-gorgeous physicist and me have a second to scan this place, instead?" Al poked at his hand-link. "Hollow cavity," he muttered, "much like someone's skull…"

"Al says we should avoid doing too much damage until we've got a good look around." Sam Beckett translated. "Major Carter – are you getting anything useful?" He peered over her shoulder.

Doctor Beckett acted the interpreter between Al and Jack, repeating the admiral's questions and statements while leaving out the more colorful quips about the Chair Force and the influence of high altitudes on flyboys' brain matter. Jack seemed to hear them anyway.

"Ah, adopting a 'wait and hope someone else solves the problem approach,'" Jack stated, hands on his weapon and his gaze assessing every inch of the chamber as well as the open entrance and the stairs leading to the surface. "Sounds familiar."

"I'm still calibrating for the interference of so much naquadah," Sam spoke quietly to Beckett, frowning down at her tablet. The two physicists had bonded immediately over Sam's tech and Beckett's amazing insights. Daniel smiled – Sam had that look in her eyes. That pure science look that lit up her face and made her talk faster, ditching military protocol. He'd missed sharing those moments with her. Missed their discussions after hours at the SGC when more practical men and women were eating and sleeping. He swallowed hard. She'd been as happy to see him as Jack and Teal'c, if a little disappointed that he'd never visited her in his Ascended state. 

Of course, he had. She just didn't remember. When Nirrti was hurting her, changing her, using her as a damned test subject, Daniel had held her together. Whispered comfort. Did his best to convince the other men Nirrti had tortured to help her. It had been close. Too close. Chest tight, Daniel was happy Sam didn't remember. That the memories of that trauma were hidden deep behind his friend's fierce mental control.

Sam raised her eyes. "Jonas, maybe the old-fashioned way?"

Daniel watched as Jonas took up a long metal tool and began tapping the stone walls. He tried to smother the resentment rising in him at how well they worked together. Jack, Sam, and Jonas. The new SG1. As if the Daniel-shaped hole had been filled in so very easily.

The Langaran kept flicking awkward, earnest glances in Daniel's direction. "So, Doctor Jackson, it's not just a matter of finding this Eye, it's a matter of destroying it. And making sure Anubis knows it's been destroyed so he won't come here and threaten these people trying to find it."

"We have to find it first," Daniel answered. He huffed at his own brusque comeback. Interacting with Jonas was … frustrating. Call him shallow, but finding the man who had cowered in a corner while Daniel dived through a plate-glass window to his death to save his planet as a trusted member of SG1, at home in Daniel's office, paging through Daniel's notebooks – it sizzled under his skin like an inward sunburn. Irritating. Unwanted. Daniel was doing his best to ignore the discomfort while he got on with the job. 

"And why can't you just snap your fingers and make it appear?" Jack sidled next to Daniel. "Or turn into that electric squid thing and float through the walls here to get it?" He made wriggly fingers in the air. "I'm telling you, Ascension, not all it's cracked up to be."

Maybe Jack was right. Daniel had actually spoken the words out loud up on the dunes. He missed his life. He'd go back if he could. He caught Beckett's gaze, sharing that moment. When SG1 stepped through the 'gate, when Daniel stood within the warm regard of his friends, bantered with Jack, and shared discoveries with Sam, he'd been home. 

Daniel watched Jack saunter away before focusing on the painted walls of the treasure chamber. Opening the outer door had been simple. Simple for an advanced culture that carried tools like infrared sights on their weapons. For the Abydonians, for most other societies kept under the boot of their Goa'uld slave masters, it would have been impossible. Now, with the glitter of gold and gems, the barrels of liquid naquadah, the Goa'uld devices laying in heaps on the ground to distract any treasure-hunters, Daniel stood very still in the center of the chamber and considered.

Why had Oma and the Ascended allowed Sam Beckett to find him? To help him? Why had they let Daniel interfere with the 'lowers' on Abydos? Allowed the admiral to contact SG1 and get them to help? The Ascended had warned Daniel over and over again to keep his assistance to a minimum, refused to let him seek out his friends, talk to them, except in the smallest snatches during moments of great trauma that they might never remember. They'd only allowed Daniel to interfere in other realities, alternate universes that did not impact his own. He'd figured it was another way for them to keep straddling the thin line between godlike meddling and arrogant indifference. 

Why had everything suddenly changed?

Sam and Jonas would figure it out. Along with Sam Beckett and the scientists behind the Navy admiral, Daniel was sure that the Eye of Ra was almost in their hands. Teal'c would take the Abydonian men in hand and make sure they were prepared. And Jack and Al – even though they couldn't communicate directly – had the strategic knowledge and military connections to keep the scientists safe until the Eye was in Sam's hands.

Daniel had raised the alarm. He'd opened their eyes to the danger. He wasn't needed. Not right now.

With a swirl of light, Daniel spun his awareness out into the cosmos. He had questions. He needed answers.

"Oma."

Her energy slid along the outer edges of his mind. It felt warm, but sad. Daniel sensed her compassion, her selfless desire for his good. Oma was content, her aura brilliant with both pride and regret. "Daniel," she chided gently, "why aren't you with your friends?"

Oh.

Daniel's energy brightened, lighting the universe around him until he was all brilliant joy, pulsing with life. His journey – his Ascension – 

"Yes," Oma whispered in what felt like a kiss against his cheek. "Your choice has been made – as has Doctor Beckett's, my Daniel. Your great heart will only be at peace once you've returned to life to stand with your friends, your family, against evil. It is your nature. It makes up the very heart of you. Even here, beyond the physical, you cannot stop being who you are."

"Who is that?" he dared to ask.

"The one who sees the hurt and must do what he can – everything he can – to heal that hurt. Know this, Daniel Jackson, the hurt of your world is great. And so …" she seemed to be waiting for him to fill in the blank.

"…and so … I shouldn't be surprised when, even when I've done all that I can, that some of that hurt remains." The truth sank past Daniel's barriers and boundaries and made its way to the center of his being.

"I'm glad I've been able to teach you a little bit." Oma's happiness glowed all around him. "Your journey isn't over. But, when it does, finally, end, I'll be here to welcome you back. To lead you to true Ascension."

"So, I just go back? Just like that?" It sounded too easy. There must be a catch.

"Nothing about this has been easy, Daniel. Not your death. Not your grief. Not your doubt. Not your work to better the lives and futures of those other realities." She drew closer. "And I'm not exactly looking forward to saying good-bye to you."

"I don't think I understand." He'd been so sure he'd be censured by the Ascended for interfering on Abydos. For his compulsion to be there for his friends, his family. Now, now they wanted to give him back his life. "I didn't even ask –"

"Oh, Daniel. You accepted Ascension because you had no hope. No hope of victory over the Goa'uld, over the narrow minds in your own culture and the evils you'd found in the wider universe. You prayed that you'd find peace, here, yes, but your deepest wish was to have more power. The power to actually change the universe for the better. To heal. To help."

He shrugged nonexistent shoulders. "I thought I did help. That I was helping."

Oma's energy embraced him. "You did. You proved yourself over and over again, as if your death had left anyone unconvinced: that your first thoughts were always for others."

"Then –"

"Daniel." The universe brightened around them. Stars and planets, dim and distant galaxies, more that waited beyond unseen doors leading into other dimensions. "This is not your battleground. We did not Ascend you to put you to work. To insist that you teach us how to go on. That is not your burden."

He frowned, thinking of Sam Beckett. He'd read the exhaustion and hopelessness in his spirit, the slump of his shoulders. And yet, at his core, Beckett would grit his teeth and move on with the absolute intention to do the right thing. Still. After five years. "If I stayed," Daniel murmured, "I'd become like him."

"You would. A slave to our own inadequacies. A soldier fighting battles that should be ours. Righting our wrongs and fixing our mistakes."

Oma smothered his next question with a shift of energy. "We'd ask one more favor of you, Daniel. We brought Sam Beckett here to help you one last time. But you can help him, too. If you can detach yourself from Abydos, from your family. If you can trust that we will not let you down. That no one here will allow Anubis to harm another innocent. Can you do that?"

The image of the treasure chamber grew before his eyes. Jack was holding the Eye of Ra. Sam was arguing that it was a powerful energy source, that they should take it back to Earth to study.

"No," Daniel whispered. 

Jack looked up and met Daniel's ethereal gaze. "Not gonna happen, Major." He grabbed a block of C4 out of his pocket and stuck it to the jewel, manipulating the detonator. He lifted his open hand, the jewel lying there. "Go ahead, Daniel." Jack nodded. "We trust you."

It was Oma who scooped up the Eye of Ra and its deadly burden. She gathered Daniel's energy into a wispy form and held him close. The two hovered over Abydos, the coming storm setting the stardust trembling. A great Goa'uld ship approached from hyperspace, bigger than any Daniel had seen before. As it made its entry into real space, a hundred – a thousand – a million Ascended surrounded it. Energy writhed, weaving into a net, a trap made of the Ascended Ones' intentions to stop evil.

"You're – you're _all_ going to stop Anubis?"

Oma took his hand. "We will right this wrong, fix the mistake that has caused this evil to prosper. You've taught us so much while you've been here. Taught us about how the smallest action – or inaction – can cause either great harm or great good. I overstepped myself long ago and caused this being, Anubis, to take our power and knowledge into your physical world. Today, with the help of my friends and counselors, we will take that power, that knowledge, back. That," she nodded, fiercely intent, "we can do."

Daniel watched as a group of Ascended touched each point on Anubis' ship. Lights flickered, turning from green to red and then fizzling out. Around him, ten Ascended shimmered into form, each one holding a different Eye. They took different forms. A child. A dark haired woman. A familiar old man. His eyes widened as he shared a nod with Kendra from Cimmeria. The colored jewels rose, drifting close to Oma who raised the Eye of Ra to hover in the center. A bubble of force formed around the Eyes. 

"Tell your brother it's time," Oma stated.

Daniel sent his awareness out along the tether that always – in any form of life – tied him to Jack O'Neill. He smiled. "Boom," he spoke into Jack's mind.

"Boom?" Jack chuckled, shaking his head. "Have I told you how much I missed you?"

"Yeah," Daniel answered. "Not for much longer, Jack."

Jack's joy was even brighter than Oma's, but carefully hidden behind a stoic facade. "That's some good news." He set a crooked thumb against the detonator, flicked up the cover, and hit the switch with no hesitation.

Teal'c looked up to the many colored lights that blazed in the Abydonian sky. "Is it done, Daniel Jackson?"

In a warm rush of wind, Daniel embraced his friend. "Almost," he whispered.

The Ascended moved as one, entering Anubis' dead ship. Jaffa were stolen away to appear on their home worlds. Human slaves were transported to Abydos. Advanced technology disappeared. Oma and Daniel remained on the edge, watching as the Ancients dismantled Anubis' protective suit and exposed his energy. And then, one by one, took him apart.

Daniel almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

He turned to Oma. "One more job?"

She placed one glowing hand against his cheek. "One more blessing you can give to a sorrowful man. And his best friend." She drifted back. "I have another soul to send home."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sam Beckett watched the Air Force colonel smile to himself, whisper a few words and then set off his explosive. 

"Wait – what –" Sam Carter rushed forward. "Colonel –"

"Daniel said so, Major," was the man's cryptic response.

"Oh. Well." Carter tucked her handheld device away in one of her many pockets and nodded. "Okay, then."

"'Okay then?' That's all we get?" Al gestured wildly. "These people are nuts, Sam!"

"In the best way possible," Sam answered, unable to take his eyes off the faces of Daniel's friends. 

The colonel's radio crackled. "O'Neill. There was a great explosion in the sky."

Jack O'Neill quirked an eyebrow. "Did it look like Anubis getting blown to kingdom come?" 

"Indeed," came the dry, amused answer.

The colonel clapped his hands together, the sound startlingly loud in the underground chamber. "Well, campers, I think our work here is done."

"Almost, Colonel," Sam Carter replied, gesturing at Sam. "What about Skaara?"

"Well, if Ziggy is right –" Al poked at the hand-link, "- you're about to get him back."

"Wait." That couldn't be right. Sam's hands were tight fists at his side. Another Leap, already? "What about Daniel?" He turned back and forth, scanning the chamber. "We came here to help Daniel. But he just disappeared." He wanted to talk to Daniel, to the man whose life seemed to echo his own. Moving from here to there by some unseen hand, working in secret to fix things, to make a difference. Loss poured in through the skin that housed Sam's soul. "Aren't we even going to get a chance to say good-bye?"

"We seldom do," O'Neill replied. His narrow gaze seemed to assess Sam and, maybe, find a kindred spirit. "He'll be fine. He made me a promise. And Daniel never breaks his promises."

"Sounds like someone I know," Al muttered. "Ah, Sam? I think it's time."

Sam Beckett closed his eyes. If there was a way to will himself to stop, to stay with these people who knew who he was and why he was there – 

He heard the familiar white noise, felt the trembling of the body he wore, heard the voice of its returning owner. Rich, accented words in comforting tones emerged from the throat and lungs the two shared for just an instant. 'It will be all right, Doctor Beckett. My brother Danyel tells me so.'

Sam opened his eyes as he walked through an old-fashioned screen door into a bar.

Another bar. Another life. Another round of 'who am I?' He took in the details with one sweeping glance. Sun peeking through venetian blinds over a plate-glass window. Formica-topped tables and faux red leather and chrome barstools. Jukebox. A ceiling fan slowly rotating beneath a tin ceiling. 1950s. He turned at a familiar sound to watch boys pedaling past, baseball cards flicking against the spokes.

A rush of nostalgia warmed Sam's chilled blood. He'd been one of those boys once upon a time.

He took off a hat and studied it while he wiped sweat from his brow with a handkerchief from his pocket. Men wore hats. Women wore dresses. He eyed the bartender who was eying him. Heavy-set with a small moustache, he wore his apron tied high across his plump belly, but his blue eyes were sharp. A dark-haired woman was the only patron, sitting at the bar, sipping from a tall glass filled with ice and a sparkling, clear liquid.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked, placing a polished glass among the others.

Straightening his shoulders, Sam moved towards the bar, leaving a few stools as a buffer between him and the woman. "What's on tap?"

"Schlitz."

"Schlitz?" Sam smiled. 

"I've got Duquesne, Iron City, and Fort Pitt in bottles," the bartender offered.

Pennsylvania. Western Pennsylvania. Sam frowned and glanced up at the calendar hanging on the wall. 1953. August. The days were marked off up until August 8th. "It's my birthday," he muttered. Literally. The day Sam was born. His heart thumped, speeding up as anticipation mixed with dread stirred in his gut. The clock showed 12:35. Sam Beckett was born at 12:30. On August 8, 1953. 

Sam's mind was clearer than it had ever been. He caught the bartender's kind stare and shifted sideways, not quite ready to see what was reflected in the mirror behind the man. "Who are you," he whispered, afraid to look. To see. To be wrong.

"His name is Al. Short for Albrecht. You can call me, Oma."

The woman spun on her stool and stood. She was as tall as Sam, her hair falling in soft waves to her shoulders, held back on both sides with clips. She laid a slim hand on Sam's wrist just above where he clutched the bar with white-knuckled hands. "It's okay, Sam. Go ahead. Look."

Blinking away tears, Sam tore his gaze from hers and looked into the mirror. "Me. It's me."

"How long as it been?" Her presence was comforting, her voice soothing like a warm blanket across Sam's tattered emotions. "Since you've looked into your own eyes?"

"Too long." Sam closed his eyes and then opened them. "Huh. I'm going gray." His own face stared back at him. Older, worn, a road map of the past five years of stress and exhaustion, unbelievable adventures and horrifying fear laid out in crow's feet around his eyes. 

Her arm slid around his shoulders to steady him. Shaking, Sam managed to climb onto the nearest stool and drop his face into his hands. Memories hurried past behind his eyes, the holes in his thoughts knitting together, colors brightening scenes from dim black-and-white to vivid shades. Al. Donna. Gooshie. His parents' proud smiles, his brother's grateful hug. A hundred years later, Sam lifted his face, wet with tears, to make sure his face was still the same.

"Oma?"

The woman took a step back, one hand still on his shoulder. "Yes."

"I've heard that name before." Daniel – Daniel Jackson had mentioned her. The one who'd helped him live, Ascend. Who guided him on his own 'fixing things' journey.

"Daniel is busy right now or I'm sure he would want to be here. He'd want to make sure we took care of you. And he'd want to say good-bye, for now."

Sam swallowed. He took the handkerchief the bartender – Al – offered and wiped at his face. "For now?"

"Oh, I imagine that you and Daniel will have a lot to talk about when you both return."

Sam's heart leaped into his throat. "I'm – we're going back. You're going to let us go back."

The bartender shifted uneasily. "If that's what you really –"

"Albrecht." Oma's voice held a stern reprimand. "I won't speak to you again on this matter."

Doubt raised its itchy, sniveling head and Sam looked quickly between the two … beings. "I'm done? I've – I've done everything I'm supposed to do?"

The woman stared silently at the bartender, an entire commanding lecture communicating through her eyes and body language. When she turned to Sam, her expression was kind. "You have nothing to prove, Sam Beckett. You have made a difference. And, in your own life, in your own time, you still will. You cannot live in the past, acting only with the benefit of hindsight. That, believe it or not, is the easy way. The future is much harder. More challenging. And your future is back there, beyond the Imaging Chamber. Beyond the Project. Outside that mountain. You must step back in order to step forward."

Of course. Why hadn't he realized it before? It was easy to see mistakes made in the past. Easy to force changes, knowing that your own identity, your _self_ was free from the immediate consequences. Sam Beckett shouldn't be leaping from life to life to make a difference. He should be walking out into the world in his own skin, speaking with his own voice to change the world. His world.

He caught Oma's hand in a firm grip. "What about Daniel? Did you tell him this? Remind him that his life is just as important as these others'? That his own timeline needs him?"

"I have," she replied with a nod. "He'll be returning there shortly. He has a favor to do, first."

Sam couldn't help eying the door. Shifting on his stool. "What if I have a favor to do, too? Please. There's something I've always wanted to put right. I've been able to help so many people, why not him? Why not my best friend?"

An aura of gold and white surrounded the woman, the bartender, shimmering. The bar faded around them and only the three of them remained, held in the star-field of space. Sam looked down at himself. he was glowing, too. Energy. Ribbons of light floated, flaring into an out of visibility. 

"Sam Beckett, be at peace. Go back to your life with our blessing. We will see you again, when your journey is over. Until then, make a difference. Speak. Act. Defend the powerless and voiceless in your own world and time."

"But – " He tried to hold on, to stay there, near the higher powers that appeared, one by one. "What about Al?" he shouted.

"I'm right here, Sammy. We're all right here."

Sam opened his eyes, his own eyes. "Al?" His throat hurt, as if he hadn't used it in years. A glass of water appeared, and he sucked it down gratefully. When he was finished, he blinked up at Donna's tearful face. Glass forgotten, he lunged forward and took her in his arms.

An awkwardly cleared throat drew Sam's attention. Still gripping one of Donna's hands, he was hugged by Gooshie, by Dr. Beeks, men and women gathered around the stark chamber, familiar faces and people he didn't recognize. Finally, standing on shaking legs, Sam grinned at Al, wondering for a second if he'd be able to touch –

Al grabbed him and held on, laughing, crying, pounding on Sam's back, shouting for joy. 

When they pulled apart to the gurgling laughter all around them, Sam noticed the woman lingering at Al's side. 

"You remember my wife, Beth, don't you, Sam?"

SG1 QL SG1 QL SG1

Daniel adjusted the high collar of his dress uniform and knocked on the door.

She'd been crying. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face pale, a handkerchief clutched in one hand and a framed photograph pressed to her chest. "Oh, come in." Beth moved aside.

Daniel removed his cover and tucked it under one arm. "Ma'am."

After he'd refused coffee or water, Beth perched on the edge of her chair. "Is there – is there something else?"

Oma had told him about Al's captivity. About the Navy's visit to his family, his wife. About the love of his life thinking he was dead. Moving on with her life while Al dreamed of getting back to her.

"Beth. I have some news. It will be hard to hear, but I need you to be brave. I'm going to tell you a story." Daniel smiled. "A story with a happy ending."

A spark of hope glowed from her eyes, lighting the dim room. "A - a happy ending?"

Daniel took her hands. "Let's start with the happy ending. Al's alive. He's hurt and he's being held by the enemy, but he's alive. But, it's a secret. If you ask his fellow officers, if you ask the military, they will tell you he's dead. But, believe me," he sighed, "the military aren't all-knowing."

Her lips pressed tight; Beth narrowed her eyes. "And you are?"

Daniel tilted his head from side to side. "About this? Yes. Yes, I am." He sobered. "Can you trust me? Trust me to tell you the truth?"

Beth didn't hesitate. "If it's about my Al coming back to me, then yes. I believe you. I want to believe you."

"Hold on to that," Daniel advised. "Because he's coming. And he's going to need you."

She stood and pulled Daniel to his feet. "I'll be here. Waiting."

Through the glow of his energy, Daniel sped along Beth's timeline, moving from past to present. He watched Al's return. Their reunion. Their four strong sons. There were good times and bad times, but the two were inseparable. Al supported Beth when her mother died. And Beth was there for Al as Sam leaped again and again and again. 

"He's home."

Oma appeared beside Daniel, both of them standing on a grassy hilltop, a city floating in the clouds above them. Set on a stone pedestal, the Stargate's chevrons were already glowing, the address to Earth alight. Beings faded into view around him. Antaeus. Lya. Ohper. Nafrayu. They bowed to Oma before turning to Daniel.

Lya stepped forward. "We greet you, Daniel Jackson. The Nox are happy to help return you to your home."

Daniel closed his eyes against his tears. Soft robes fell around him, comforting against his skin. He felt the muscle of his arms, the steadiness of his legs. His chest drew in air, sunlight danced across his glasses. Oma embraced him, took his hand, and led him through the Wormhole as if he was a child.

On the other side, Jack, Sam, Teal'c, Janet, and General Hammond were waiting. 

"Hey." Daniel managed to get out one syllable before he choked, emotion overtaking him. Arms swept him up, held him close. Voices rumbled, low and deep, and higher and teary, boots stomped on the concrete floor, echoing on the metal ramp as others joined them. 

And Jack's voice rang out above it all.

"Welcome home."

THE END


End file.
